


To Rebuke the Stars

by ChibiStarr



Category: Den lengste reisen | The Longest Journey
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Roller Coaster, Likho is bad about dealing with his feelings again, M/M, Relationship(s), sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 03:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11244963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiStarr/pseuds/ChibiStarr
Summary: On the journey to Sadir, Kian helps Likho deal with the demons of his past, and thoughts that have been plaguing him for so long.





	To Rebuke the Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkRose89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkRose89/gifts).



> Commission for DarkRose89!

After the harsh, freezing winter in Marcuria, one would expect that a desert would be much warmer, but such is never proven true with the ignorant. Yes, the light of Goddess blazed forth from the sun like a shield of glory, scorching all the earth below with the rays of Her light and heat. And yet when the glorious golden disc dipped below the horizon and the veil of the night drew over the desert, the temperature, surprisingly, plummeted.  
  
Kian was far too used to the hot and cold cycles of the desert to really feel bothered by anything. In fact this felt _better_ than the constant semi-cold state of Marcuria, his body was used to these extremes in switching temperature and he loved it. He could tell Likho on the other hand...well he knew that scowl well enough and the moment it had gotten so serious everyone learned to run from him as soon as possible.  
  
There was such an expression now, he could feel it. But Kian refused to give him the satisfaction of turning around and kept stirring his pot of soup and staring out into the horizon. It was dark, and yet the vast emptiness of the heavens and earth were scattered with stars that stretched over every dark corner of the sky. One of the greatest of the Goddess's creations, the awesome and inspiring sight of the distant celestial bodies watching down from their thrones. He remembered being but a boy and the priestesses told him that all the night sky was the Goddess's garden, and her plants and flowers were all the stars. He didn't know whether to believe that now, but it still made him wonder.  
  
He glanced over his shoulder, as if his gaze was pulled there. Likho's eye was watching him, the firelight blazing in it while the hole that consumed his other eye was plunged into the deepest shadow. The scowl was still there, the dancing fire making the lines on his face seem deeper than they really were, but there was something else to him that Kian could not place. All in a few seconds he felt the anger from Likho's gaze, and yet there was _frustration_ burning in that gaze at the same time.  
  
Likho turned away, placing his unreadable empty eye socket into Kian's sight while he strode to the edge of the campsite and sat down in the sand. Kian could see a flash of light as he unsheathed a dagger, then a mind-numbing scraping noise began to fill the air as he sharpened it against a whetstone. He had sharpened it so much over the past few days that Kian wondered if his plan was to simply sharpen it down into nothing, to make the edge of the blade so microscopic and thin that he could cut through anything.  
  
He had been acting strangely ever since Ferdows had landed their cloudship at the edge of the desert. Their plan was sound, even though Likho had heavily argued against it. Kian knew that he couldn't simply land a cloudship in the middle of Sadir, not when Mother Utana had reached the city first and he was still technically considered a traitor by the Six. He would be arrested or assassinated before he could so much as get into the War Garden, especially if he had a Dolmari in tow with him. So they needed to be discreet, they needed to sneak into the heart of Azadir, not march in with trumpets playing. But Likho probably didn't even know what subtlety was, let alone acknowledge that laying low was a good idea. He was far too impatient and reckless to go along with it.  
  
Of course, being overruled by everyone else did not sit well with the Dolmari, and he had been scowling ever since. At least, Kian was sure that was the reason. With Likho it was impossible to tell since he managed to look annoyed at something or another all the time anyway.  
  
Kian watched for a few moments longer, long enough to see one of the desert people traveling with them skirt around Likho as he patrolled the perimeter of the campsite. Likho snarled at him in the response, and the man jumped a little and hurried on his way. Kian frowned but did not comment, not yet. He knew Likho wouldn't try to slit the throats of their guides while they were still in the middle of the desert so he knew his bark was just that, barking and no teeth.  
  
The people of the desert were technically Trueborn and considered as such, but Kian knew their beliefs were very mild compared to those in Sadir and the other cultural centers in Azadir. The only reason they had not brought the ire of the Six on themselves yet was because their numbers were so small and they wandered the desert in their caravans rather than the cities. But Likho wouldn't know that, nor would he really care if he did. The only thing that stopped him from trying to kill them was the fact that they would never get through the desert without their help.  
  
He checked on the soup again and found it satisfactory, then he stood up and approached Likho, his steps making no sound against the soft sand. His shadow fell across the Dolmari and Likho whipped his head around to look at him, his ponytail slapping against his cheek rather comically as he did. There was nothing comical about Likho's expression, though, and Kian felt his amusement quickly dying under the wary gaze Likho was levering on him.  
  
Likho was annoyed, but not dangerous. Kian had learned to read his moods and even if he didn't truly understand why Likho was feeling the way he did, he knew that the magical would tolerate his presence. He seated himself next to Likho, automatically folding himself into a cross-legged position and leaving a few inches of free space between them. He felt that single eye watching him the whole time, watching him with that intensity that felt similar to a knife slowly working its way under his skin to peel it away. He ignored it and stared right back, keeping his gaze neutral.  
  
He knew Likho would never begin the conversation with anything other than something hostile, so the burden always fell to him. "What is wrong with you?" Kian asked softly, lowering his voice so it wouldn't carry to any eavesdroppers.  
  
Bluntness worked sometimes, and here Likho's eye narrowed further, but the question did not infuriate him as Kian expected it to. "There is nothing wrong," he said simply, turning away to preoccupy himself with his dagger again. "Yet again you see problems which do not exist."  
  
A sigh began to build up in his chest and Kian trampled it down viciously. So it was going to be _this_ game now. Kian hated this one more than any of them, the one where Likho was a wall that refused to tell him anything until Kian deduced it all himself and dragged it out of him—which would then result in Likho's anger. "You have been angry and aggressive ever since we entered Azadir," he explained patiently, in that clinical tone that he knew Likho hated. "If you wanted to come with me so much, then why do you dislike being here? You must have already thought this out." Or maybe he didn't. It _was_ Likho, after all. The man's idea of a prison break involved killing dozens of people and blowing up supply buildings, instead of a discreet operation that any _sane_ person would do.  
  
Likho's face twitched, but he kept unusually calm. "If you haven't noticed, we are currently surrounded by Azadi," he jerked his head in a vague direction towards the desert people's tents, where they were pitched near the sleeping _kah'amel._ "I have to keep my guard up."  
  
"We have been surrounded by Azadi for _six days._ If they haven't arrested you or murdered you in your sleep by now, they're not going to. They have been nothing but kind and polite and respectful to you ever since we found them." He knew it was pointless to mention that they also did not adhere to the Goddess's policy on magicals as strictly as those in Sadir, that the only reason they would be suspicious of him would be because Dolmari raiders attacked anyone they came across, so he did not.  
  
"Bah," Likho replied with a distinct lack of fire. "Politeness is just an easy way to mask enmity." He squinted at his dagger, turning it in the light again, and Kian realized that he wasn't examining the blade at all but using it as a mirror to spy on the people behind them.  
  
That wasn't...this wasn't about being in Azadir. Or the weather. He knew when Likho was thinking about Azadir, it would be obvious in his anger. He was going through all the motions but it wasn't in his _voice._ "You're lying," Kian said bluntly, watching Likho stiffen at the words. "What is really wrong?"  
  
"What would _you_ know?" Likho snapped suddenly, the venom in his words taking Kian aback. The Dolmari shoved his dagger back into his belt and jumped to his feet, striding off swiftly into the darkness. The night seemed to swallow him whole.  
  
Kian blinked at the spot where he had just been, his mind processing what had just happened. He definitely had not expected _that_ sort of reaction, nor for Likho to simply wander off into the desert, which was dangerous at all times of the day. For a moment he wanted to leap up and run after him, but he was rooted to the spot. Likho could take care of himself and there was no way he would be stupid enough to walk so far that he would lose sight of the campfire; he would be back. Going after him now would just result in more yelling and something painful.  
  
He heard voices calling for him, for everyone really, that the soup was done and to come eat before sand got into it. Kian stood up and brushed off his clothes and cast one last look into the vast emptiness of the land before heading back to the fire.

* * *

  
Shadows lengthened even further, it seemed, as the night grew deeper. Kian had retired to his tent, stripping off his cloak and boots and laying on his cot to read one of the books he had brought with him from Marcuria. Even though he could hear everyone else settling into sleep around him, he remained awake, waiting.  
  
He could barely focus on his book, he was too busy listening. But still he persisted in his vain task until he noticed that he had read through his last page eight times and it still made no sense. Just as he slammed it closed he finally heard the footsteps he had been waiting for and a few seconds later the flap of his tent was pushed aside to reveal Likho, his expression frozen but a deep irritation burning in his eye. The same one Kian had seen earlier.  
  
Kian sat up, setting the book aside. "You missed dinner," he said, fixing Likho with a stare and refusing to look away. Likho stared right back, frowning at him. "I don't know what is wrong with you, but if it affects you so deeply and distracts you from our mission then it needs to be dealt with." He let the harshness in his voice abate for a moment. "You know I can help you Likho."  
  
"There is nothing _wrong_ with me," Likho replied, shrugging off his own cloak and draping it over Kian's with care. And yet after he said that he paused, before heaving a deep sigh. "It is not important anyway."  
  
His brusqueness made Kian's own anger spark and he tried to wrangle it under control. "I think I will decide if it is important or not," he shot back, his voice much more even than he expected and he was proud of himself for it. "It is a problem, Likho, and it must be dealt with."  
  
"Then you better get used to disappointment, Apostle," Likho shot back, undoing his belts and tossing them carelessly near their bags.  
  
Kian's heart leaped. "I told you not to call me that while we're here!" he hissed, glancing around to make sure he couldn't see any silhouettes through the tent.  
  
"Calm down, Kian. I already checked to make sure everyone was asleep." Likho came over slowly, almost hesitant as his steps drew closer. He stopped just a foot from the cot, his eye fixed unwaveringly upon Kian with a mix of emotions stampeding across his face in subtle twitches that Kian could not name.  
  
Kian watched him, more and more curious as the seconds wore on. Yet Likho seemed to be getting softer as he battled whatever he was thinking about, conquering it in that ruthless way that he knew Likho was so good at. He waited for a moment longer, making sure that Likho appeared to be preoccupied before speaking up. "You're doing it again. If you won't tell me what's wrong—"  
  
An explosive sigh left Likho, cutting off his words and the Dolmari was suddenly looming over him with one huge step, and enormous hands were gripping his shoulders and shoving him down. "For the love of the gods just be quiet for once in your life!" Likho was growling into his ear, his weight consuming Kian, wrapping around him in a way that he had always loved, bringing with him that strangely clean scent of magic and leather that was soon everywhere.  
  
He loved it, in that strange, thrilling way that always inflamed his blood to the tips of his fingers at the thought of it. A _magical_ in bed with him; a brooding, snarling, angry magical who constantly told him that he hated him and wanted to kill him and he just so strong and _perfect._ Likho was so dominating and harsh and under his hands Kian briefly forgot his worries as the Likho he knew was back, holding him, touching him, _filling_  him under the stars and the night sky.  
  
Time vanished for him, sometime during their night the candles in his tent went out and although they acknowledged the sudden darkness neither of them cared. Hot skin, sweat, spices and clean mint were much more important sensations than something as trivial as no light, why, it even enhanced the feeling now that the eyes were no longer distracted. Waves of pleasure, peaks and curves, the curve of Likho's neck, the hardness of his muscles and—and—  
  
Soft, floating lightness. Exhaustion brought on by their activities, but such a delicious exhaustion it was, with tangled limbs and gentle waves of pleasure rolling through his body like the swells of the ocean. Their breaths were softer, and in the silent darkness Kian could hear that they were both breathing in unison. It made him smile, just a little, but even a small smile was enough to topple the strongest ice walls.  
  
Likho moved. A deliberate, practiced movement that Kian's instincts recognized deeply while his brain was still clouded with the haze of what they had done. It was like a splash of freezing, crystal clear water to his face and he was moving in response, panic flooding into his veins and his heart kicking against his ribs like a startled horse, even if he didn't understand why but his trained body knew _danger._  
  
His hand caught Likho's wrist, an amazing feat considering how dark it was but he couldn't think of that now. Likho reacted quickly, his other hand grabbing Kian's throat and squeezing with all the strength of a viper, nearly crushing him in his grasp. The pain and lack of air made stars burst behind Kian's eyes, but he did not train nearly his whole life for the role of an Apostle just to be defeated in such a way. He slammed his fist into Likho's elbow, forcing his arm to bend and he lunged forward to ram his head into Likho's face.  
  
He heard a curse in Dolmari and warm blood dripped onto his skin, rolling down his cheek, but he couldn't worry about that. With a mighty heave he tried to overpower Likho, but the other was struggling far too hard for him to get a good position over. Then, suddenly, they were falling, their struggles taking them right off the bed.  
  
Kian had the luck of landing on top of Likho and they both hit the sand hard, Likho's breath driving out of him in a deep cough. Taking the opportunity the distraction caused, he finally managed to gain the upper hand, pinning Likho's wrists down and sitting on him to stop him from moving. Likho may have been physically stronger than him, but  
Kian knew that he was much heavier, and eventually Likho came to accept this as well as his struggles became weaker over the seconds.  
  
It was still taking some time to sink in, but Kian could not deny the truth before him once his mind finally started to comprehend it. Likho had just tried to kill him. He knew it, there was no way to rationalize or reason out of it, Likho had finally made his move to take his life just as he always claimed he would. But why so suddenly? And why would he indulge himself in sex first? It would have been much simpler and cleaner to wait for him to fall asleep before killing him.  
  
Likho's struggles had gone silent, the only indicator of his emotions was his fast, loud breathing that filled the tent nearly to bursting. It felt too much, the tent was too small. He could not say all the words he wanted to say, they would press against the walls and explode. He could only force out one word from his protesting mouth: _"Why?"_  
  
He could not see Likho look at him, but the stare burned him all the same. The silence stretched on between them, a yawning gap as wide as a canyon, until Likho sighed. "Let  
me up," he whispered, his voice more subdued than Kian had ever heard it before.  
  
That soft voice would have usually had Kian giving in, willing to let Likho have almost anything if it would make him feel better. But here the words simply inflamed his already raw temper and his felt his resolve clamping down in jaws of steel. "No," he hissed back, daring to lean in closer, fixing Likho with a furious glare of his own. "Not until you tell me why."  
  
They stayed like that for a moment, frozen, locked together and facing down on a battlefield that only existed in the space between them. Then Likho turned away. "You would not understand," he spoke.  
  
Such a simple movement left Kian completely dumbfounded. Likho had... _turned_ away from him. He had given in, surrendered, whatever it would be called, Kian had thrown down a challenge and Likho let himself be conquered by it. It was impossible, almost indescribable. His confusion and anger warred against each other, churning his stomach and sending his heart into an even faster dance. "Don't you _dare_ tell me about what I will and won't understand," he said, his voice harsh, unyielding, and low. The voice of the Apostle. "Now talk."  
  
Likho snapped his head back to him, his anger palpable. His hands clenched into fists, but no matter how he tried he still could not break free of Kian's grip, and he was forced to acquiesce once more. His breath heaved, tearing from his chest now instead of panting its way out. "I—" Likho cut off his words with a small growl of anger, and bulled on, "I should have never mocked you for becoming a traitor to your people"  
  
_That_ was about the last thing he had ever expected to hear from Likho, in any situation. He stared, dumbfounded, hardly able to comprehend words as he processed what Likho told him. "Why do you say that?" he finally asked.  
  
"Because I know now how it feels, Kian Alvane." Likho squirmed under him, not so much an attempt to throw him off but a voicing of his displeasure. "Let me up." When Kian did not relent, he sighed once more. "Please."  
  
Kian raised an eyebrow, knowing that it could not be seen, but he finally obeyed, but not before grabbing Likho's dropped dagger first. He watched as Likho slowly got to his feet, brushing the sand off his skin with empty, mechanical movements. The magical did not even look at him, busying himself with his menial tasks until he turned around and began pulling on his clothes in short, sharp movements. "Wait," Kian said, coming closer to grip Likho by the arm. Likho shrugged him off, but he did not relent. "You never answered me. Why did you try to kill me?"  
  
"You're awfully calm and reasoning for someone who nearly assassinated you a few minutes ago."  
  
"Stop trying to change the subject, it's not going to work." Kian crossed his arms defiantly, planting himself next to Likho to stop him from simply barging out without an explanation.  
  
There was an angry scoff from the Dolmari and Likho yanked his vest on with far more force than was necessary. "I said I would _kill_ you, Kian. I made an oath the day my father died that I would. I swore it over his dead body, I swore it to the gods, and now what am I doing? I am spitting in all of their faces by doing this—act with you. By being what we are." His words were spoken in such anger, in such vicious contempt that Kian half expected him to be truly spitting.  
  
He felt his own anger returning. "Do you think I haven't made oaths as well?" he countered. "Oaths about this particular subject?"  
  
"I do not care what you have and haven't sworn, it does not matter!" He jerked his last belt on and turned to glare at Kian. "It doesn't matter, because I am still breaking my oaths. What you have broken does not factor in." There was an edge to his voice, a strange awry tone that Kian could not place. Something he had never heard before.  
Likho stormed past him, and a momentary panic swept over him. "Wait!" he said to Likho's retreating back.  
  
Amazingly, the Dolmari paused. He did not look back but he had stopped all the same.  
  
Kian fumbled for words, desperate to say something that reflected his feelings adequately. "Do you know why I turned on my people?" he said, throwing them out to the wind. "Do you know why I stood in front of Vamon and refused to kill April Ryan, even though I had everything to lose from it and nothing to gain?" He waited only a second for Likho to mull it over before continuing, he didn't want Likho to interrupt. "Because I knew it was the right thing to do, Likho. I listened to my gut and my heart, not what my head was telling me."  
  
The silence afterward was nearly deafening. Likho stood there, the tent flap half-raised in his frozen hand, as if the words had turned him into stone. Kian for his part stood rooted to the spot, watching, waiting for an answer. For anything.  
  
Likho's hand clenched at the fabric of the tent. "How very unlike you to not think," he said softly before ducking through the tent and leaving Kian standing there, alone.

* * *

  
He did not sleep for the rest of the night. How could he after that? He laid awake in his cot, tossing and turning and examining the dagger he had taken from Likho. The one he had been sharpening for days. How long had he been planning this out? Or was it just a spur of the moment decision? Why did Likho want this now, after everything? Especially when he could have killed Kian long before this. Nothing made sense to him.  
  
The sky began to brighten, heralding the arrival of the sun, and with it the desert people rose as well. Kian could hear them chattering and waking everyone else, getting breakfast ready and rousing the _kah'amel._ It was smart of them, they needed to cover as much ground as they could before the sun could come over the horizon and turn the desert into a scorching oven. He had to rise as well, to help everyone prepare, but a part of him was frozen in his position, cowering at the trials he would face. A part of him wanted to stay here forever because if he stayed here, then he could pretend that last night never happened. That everything was alright and Likho was going with him to Sadir and—  
  
He sat up and swung his legs over the cot. His feet found his shoes and he began pulling on his clothes, finally dressing himself after the incident. What was he thinking? He was an _Apostle,_ he did not run nor hide from danger like a rabbit!  
  
When he brushed aside his tent flap the cool air greeted him, as did the smell of flatbread and chickpeas and meat. The foods of the desert, ones that could be carried for a long time without going to waste, or could be made instantly. Almost immediately his eyes found Likho, who was busy pulling down his tent and was managing to do it faster than everyone else. The Dolmari was moving with harsh, sharp movements and Kian could tell that now was not the time to talk to him. Instead he focused on his own tent and came when breakfast was called for.  
  
They began their journey onward just as the first tip of the sun's curve was peeking over the horizon. Kian found himself beside the _kah'amel_ that he had been riding with Likho ever since they started out their journey, and was surprised to find Likho there as well, staring at the beast with the same amount of distrust one might give to a _kan'dar._ He couldn't help but smile. "It won't bite, you know," he said as he approached.  
  
Likho shot him a scathing look. "I don't trust it," he grumbled. "Nothing this big is trustworthy."  
  
"Are elgwen untrustworthy, then?"  
  
"Elgwen are long. These things are much taller."  
  
Kian tried not to chuckle and glanced at the beast that was sitting very patiently, waiting for them to climb onto its back. "Come on," he said, "we don't want to hold people up." His lightness was forced, though. He could feel Likho's anger across his skin, and that glare that threatened to set him ablaze. To distract himself from it he clambered onto the kah'amel's back, taking his place at the front as he was the one who knew how to guide the beast.  
  
After a long silence that felt like hours, Likho climbed up as well. Kian had to force himself not to sigh in relief.  
  
The leader called for them to rise, and Kian nudged the _kah'amel_ into a standing position, listening to Likho's grunt as the ground fell away from them. He rummaged in his pack for his shawl, then wrapped it around his head to protect himself from the sun's rays, leaving only his eyes free. He handed one to Likho as well, watching as their little procession started off into the vast emptiness that was the desert.  
  
He was used to quietness from his companion, but this was not the normal silence that would often stretch between them, where they would both be wrapped up in their own thoughts until one of them spoke hours later. It was the tense silence that Kian had learned to get used to when he first joined the resistance, where Likho would refuse to speak to him unless absolutely necessary or to offer up a snide comment. He hated them, it constantly felt as if Likho intended to say something but was just holding it in.  
He barely paid attention to the movement of the kah'amel as it roamed across the slippery sands, instead his mind was casting around for something to say. Something that would catch and hold Likho's attention so he couldn't drive him away with insults.  
  
A phrase came to his mind and he nearly burst out laughing at it, and his mouth was already curving into a smile before he cleared his throat. _"Moosh bokhoradet,_ Likho." He knew Likho hated it when he spoke Azadi, the challenge was irresistible.  
  
There was a swish of fabric from behind him and Likho's irritated voice drifted to his ears. "I don't speak your sand-language, butcher, in case you have forgotten in your foolishness."  
  
Kian ignored the jibe. "I was just saying that you amuse me, is all," he said with a roll of his shoulders. Not quite that, but Likho did not have to know the details. "You have feelings that you don't know how to deal with, and you haven't ever truly made peace with yourself or what has happened in your past. Of all the rebels you always seemed to be the most calm and perceptive, aside from Shepherd of course, but you're really the most confused of them all. _Khar too kharé_ as my people would say." Although he definitely was not going to tell Likho what _that_ meant either.  
  
He was glad that he had not returned Likho's dagger, as he was overcome with the sudden, intense feeling that Likho would have loved to do nothing more than stab him right at that moment. "I am not confused about _anything,"_ Likho hissed, "I know exactly what I must do. I must make my peace by killing you, and nothing would satisfy me more."  
  
"Then why do you hesitate?" Kian retorted, dancing along the dangerous wire that was Likho's temper. He knew he was throwing gas into a fire but he didn't care, if he would spend his entire life tiptoeing around Likho with his words then nothing would ever get resolved in their lives. "Why did it take you so long to try and kill me, when you could have done it any time you came to my bed? Why did you leave last night and give up the fight? Why—" he licked his lips, his heart hammering inside his chest and his hands twisting the reins. "Why do you think being in _love_ is so much worse than constant _hatred?"_  
  
A heavy, thick hush fell between the both of them. It was like being plunged into a vat of honey, Kian imagined, everything felt slower and all the sounds coming to his ears felt as if it was coming from a long distance away. There, he had said it. The final, dreaded words that they had avoided, yet brushed against for brief moments before retreating back to their neutral ground, where they did not have to talk to think about things that were deeper than sex. Where they could pretend such things did not exist and were instead camaraderie, a type of camaraderie that drove them to reveal their deepest secrets and insecurities to each other, a type that sent them into a hellhole where they both saved each other's lives when they could have very easily have let the other die and vanquish their greatest enemy.  
  
Greatest enemy. Hah. Likho was no more his enemy than the _kah'amel_ they were riding.  
  
"I don't get why you're so hung up on this, Likho," the cool, clinical voice of Saga informed them.  
  
Kian nearly jumped in his seat and he whirled to see Saga riding next to them atop her own _kah'amel._ Her head was of course covered, and she seemed more preoccupied with something that she held wrapped in a bundle of cloth than she was with them. Whatever it was it had distracted her the whole trip but apparently not enough to stop her from eavesdropping on them. He opened his mouth to tell her that they were having a _private_ conversation and she had no business intruding, but she continued before he could form one syllable.  
  
"You know you love him, even though he's an Azadi, and you're going to forgive him anyway. Why drag it out for so long? It's always a thing you do, you fight against what you know is inevitable and what you know is right, all because you can't deal with any emotion that isn't anger." She paused to take a breath. "Maybe it's just time to let go of something that has caused you so much trouble and pain throughout your life." She spurred her mount onward, riding ahead of them before they could form proper answers, leaving them alone once more.  
  
This time the silence was lighter, broken by Saga's blunt words. She had all the subtly of a cudgel. "I hate it when she does that," Kian remarked, watching her retreating back as she caught up to Ferdows.  
  
"What the hell does _she_ know?" Likho snarled, his anger lessened by his shock and confusion. That was a voice Kian had never heard from him before. It sounded so...unlike him, to nearly be cowering from a few words, but Kian knew Saga had a way of doing that to people.  
  
"More than you might think," Kian replied. He fished around in his pack for an apple, one of the last few that they had brought from Marcuria, and began cutting it. Finally he turned to Likho and offered him a half. "Now, I'm going to say things, and I'm going to ask things, and you are not going to avoid me."

* * *

  
Finally, after the days had come and gone, Kian could at last see Sadir on the horizon. Its white towers gleamed in the sunlight, like fresh snow. The jewel of the marshes, as the Azadi called it. The ground had long ago turned green and wet as they followed one of the six rivers that led to the delta where the capital rested, and the smell of flowers was heavy in the air. It smelled like home.  
  
Kian turned to look at Likho, who was eyeing the city distastefully, apprehension clear in his eyes. "Don't worry, as long as we don't attract too much attention will be just fine."  
  
"I know," Likho muttered, not even bothering to look at Kian.  
  
The Apostle knew that tone, and that face. He squared himself and spoke in a low tone, "Do you trust me?"  
  
Likho's eye flicked to him. There was a pause. "I do," Likho admitted at last. No prying and no confessions, he could say it to the open air as freely as anything.  
  
The words made his heart warm. "Then trust me on this. We will be fine."  
  
A sigh left the Dolmari and Likho reached up to wrap his head again to hide his blue skin and white hair. "Alright, but if we get arrested by the guards the first thing I'm doing is slitting your throat. Then I'll slit all of theirs."  
  
Kian smirked at that. "We have a deal, then," he said as he urged the _kah'amel_ onward, to the beating heart of the Azadi empire.

**Author's Note:**

> The desert people are my own idea, based off of the Bedouin people who live in the deserts of the Middle East and North Africa.
> 
> The bits of Azadi that Kian says are actually Persian idioms, since the Azadi language is basically Persian.
> 
> "Moosh bokhoradet" means "a mouse should eat you", basically telling someone that they are extremely cute, more used in the context of a parent telling their child how adorable they are. Hence why Kian doesn't want to tell Likho the true meaning.
> 
> "Khar too kharé" translates literally as "a donkey inside a donkey." It describe a state of great chaos and disorganization, except most phrases involving a donkey can be seen as pretty rude, especially since in English a donkey is also called an ass, so you can say Kian just called Likho "an ass inside of an ass." A small jibe, if you will, and another he's not explaining to Likho for obvious reasons. 
> 
> _Kah'amel_ are, as you might have guessed, just camels. Except their Arcadian version is about 30 feet tall.


End file.
